Around My Table

“Living well is the best revenge.” That saying kept running through my head Saturday night as I sat in my living room talking with new friends, drinking wine, eating a homemade feast from Dorie Greenspan’s Around My French Table. While this wasn’t the original intent when I planned this dinner weeks ago, at least to the seven of us sitting there, it was the best possible response to Friday’s horrific news from Paris.

The coincidences surrounding this dinner made it feel like fate. It started with two articles: the first from Serious Eats about cookbook clubs (a combination potluck and book club with everyone bringing a dish from a chosen cookbook), the second a New York Times claim about the “death of the party,” blaming its demise on everything from the Internet (…huh?) and helicopter parenting to the real estate market and craft beer.

Around the table

I’ve been looking for more excuses to play hostess and am always looking for a reason to try new recipes (especially from my ever-expanding cookbook collection that gets neglected in favor of whatever’s popped up on the Internet lately) . So I left a comment on the cookbook club article saying I’d love to start one in Chicago and for anyone interested to email me.

Inviting strangers into my home with a vague hope that we’d all have some common interest in food–not something my normally introverted self would take on. But I didn’t want to leave it to chance that someone else would start a group and hope they’d invite me. Between the half-dozen people who emailed me and several other food-loving friends, I gathered about 15 people who were equally excited about the idea.

Sharing wine

I chose Around My French Table as the inaugural selection for the “Cooking the Books” club since it had a huge variety of recipes and Dorie Greenspan’s recipes are almost always fool-proof (and, of course, I’ve become a bit of a Francophile over the past year). I found out one of the people who emailed me from Serious Eats was from France and that the date I picked, November 14, coincided with the first French Restaurant Week in Chicago. Fate, I thought.

Then I heard the news on Friday and my heart broke.

Suddenly this dinner was so much more important than just meeting new friends and eating delicious homemade food–or maybe it was so important for exactly those reasons. The attack in Paris targeted those simply enjoying life with friends and loved ones–a dinner out, a concert, a soccer match. If there’s one thing I can do in response, I thought, it’s this: I can bring a handful of people together to share a meal.

So I braised short ribs, set out candles, found good party music, chilled bottles of wine–not to avoid what had happened, but to control the one thing I could when everything on the news seemed determined to show how little control we have.


The dinner itself was everything I hoped for. Every dish was outstanding (I think that speaks both to everyone’s cooking skills and the recipes) but more importantly a group of near complete strangers with such varied backgrounds turned almost immediately into a dinner of dear friends, laughing, eating, and drinking like we’ve known each other for years. Of course the conversation revolved around food–what tweaks we made to the recipes, what inspired us to make a particular dish, what else we want to try. There’s something to be said for a group of people that can collectively nerd out over the kind of butter used in a dish.

Dinner is served
Pumpkin flans
Short ribs

Every bite was delicious
Credit to Sarah for this picture! Her plate looked much tidier than mine.

Sarah, our resident Frenchwoman, made a comment at the end of the evening that meant everything to me, though: after spending the better part of the past 24 hours on the phone with her family and friends, she was glad to have this dinner to look forward to. This was what she would be doing with her friends on a Saturday night in Paris.

Cheese plate
I still can’t watch the news. It’s all too much–the posturing, blame, and misplaced anger, the sights and sounds and overwhelming pain–and too similar to so many, too many, other stories lately. But I can find and share food and comfort with friends. It might be a small thing, but when the world seems hellbent on making us afraid of enjoying life (and of welcoming strangers into our lives), it’s the least I can do.

Good people and good stories

Heavy thoughts aside, this dinner was incredibly fun and I can’t wait to do it again (Smitten Kitchen cookbook is on the docket for January!). Here’s what we made and a few thoughts on each dish:

Continue reading

Browned Butter Vanilla Ice Cream

Every year on November 1, the Internet collectively explodes in a shower of “new/favorite/best make-ahead pumpkin-apple-cranberry-turkey-roasted-vegetable-mashed-potatoes-oh-and-don’t-forget-the-cocktails” recipes. And almost every year, I’m about three weeks late on sharing anything for the holiday, but not this time! This time, I have ice cream. Ice cream…with butter in it. You’re welcome.

Browned butter ice cream

This is not just any ice cream, but my new favorite best ice cream that’s perfect alongside a slice of warm apple pie. And yes, you can make it ahead, though I can’t guarantee you won’t need to make a second batch before Thanksgiving. In fact, best be safe and plan on making two batches.

All you need for amazing ice cream

Can I confess something? As crazy as everyone goes over salted butter caramel, I wish it wasn’t so sweet. And was maybe a little more salty. And a smidge more buttery. This ice cream is all that. It’s that toasty, nutty, caramelized flavor I love from the butter (incidentally, the same flavor that makes these my favorite chocolate chip cookies and these my favorite brownies) but without the toothache. And with just a little bit of vanilla? Perfection.

Browned butter
Vanilla bean innards

And while I’m stirring the proverbial hornet’s nest, I’ll argue that this is better than even the best vanilla ice cream alongside apple (or any) pie. Vanilla ice cream is so often the default with dessert because the flavor is somewhat neutral and doesn’t compete with the pie for center stage; here, the browned butter actually complements and elevates the flavor of a perfectly browned pie crust and juicy, cinnamon-y apples (or pumpkin, pecan, sweet potato–whichever is your pie of choice come November 26).

When it comes to styles of ice cream, I prefer just milk, sugar, cream, and flavorings (aka Philadelphia-style, aka the style that Jeni’s Splendid Ice Cream has made so popular) instead of the more common egg-based custard. This allows the flavor of really good milk and cream (and, in this case, really good butter) to stand out. Plus I don’t end up trying to uncurdle half a dozen egg yolks (vanilla scrambled eggs are decidedly un-tasty) or trying to figure out what to do with the half-dozen leftover egg whites.

Cream cheese

By the way, once you’ve melted the three sticks of butter and used the one tablespoon of butter solids in the ice cream, for the love of god and all that is holy, save the rest of the butter. It’s clarified butter (though with a slightly toastier flavor than what you’ll get in a jar at the store) and is spectacular in so many things. Like, oh, say, apple pie filling. Or a pan of roasting vegetables, or stirred into mashed potatoes. Or for basting your turkey. As if the ice cream itself wasn’t reason enough to make this, you have a great ingredient for the rest of your dinner too. You can thank me later.

Love this ice cream container
Perfect scoop
Browned butter ice cream

Browned Butter Vanilla Ice Cream Continue reading

Eating My Way Through Boston

You know who are good people? Ones who love pizza and other bread-y things so much they build their own wood-burning pizza oven in their backyard. Conveniently, I am lucky enough to know these people and they love me enough to share. They also love me enough that when I say “Hey! I want to come visit. Can we make pizza, please?”, they say “Of course, and can we take you out to all our favorite restaurants, too?”

That’s how I ended up spending 3 days eating my way through Boston with my best friend and her boyfriend. (Let’s ignore the absurdity of the fact that I lived on the East coast for nearly 20 years and this was my first time in Boston. Suffice to say it was a visit long overdue. Also, I will never, ever complain about Chicago traffic ever again.)

Boston Public Library
Misty evening

I did not have a single bad meal during those three days, but the trip was bookended by two meals that I’m still dreaming about six months after the fact. Dinner at Sarma was the first.


Sarma is the best restaurant I’ve been to this year, hands down. I could write an entire post just about this meal. Of the eight (nine? ten? I honestly lost count) dishes and two cocktails I tried, there was not a single one that I thought “Well, this is just ok.” Usually a meal with this many dishes will have some low point, some moment when I’m ready to move on to the next thing. Not here. For every plate that we had, I couldn’t decide which I wanted more: the last bite in front of me or whatever was coming next.

Chicken wings

Sarma does Mediterranean/Middle Eastern small plates, which sounds…not unusual. But, while they have falafel and feta and hummus and kibbeh and kofte, their versions are nothing like I’ve had anywhere else. First of all, it’s obvious they prioritize fresh produce. Not hard when they get most of it from the farm run by the husband of one of the chefs. Meat and seafood are equally good (the huge hunk of gorgeous tuna we saw the chef preparing in their open kitchen was all the convincing we needed to order whatever dish it involved–pretty good sales tactic).

The spices–essential in Middle Eastern cuisine–were spot on. It’s incredibly easy with strong spices like sumac and harissa to let them over-power the rest of the ingredients, especially vegetables, but here the spices enhanced every bite instead of taking over.


I won’t list everything we ate, but there are a few things I’m still talking about. The basturma (cured beef) and cheese rolls were just the right amount of salty and crunchy, perfectly complemented by pickled strawberries (immediately added to my “Things to pickle” list for next summer). Perfectly cooked baby artichokes with spicy olives I could have eaten a bowl of on their own. Little raviolis with mint & pistachio pesto, fresh peas, and crunchy fried halloumi cheese. The chicken wings that were, simply, good beyond description.

And because my friend would disown me if I didn’t mention it, there was also dessert. Specifically, halva caramel that comes in a wee little Mason jar (is there any doubt I love this place on that fact alone?). In theory it’s one of the toppings you can get for their delicious little ricotta donuts or frozen yogurt, but the consensus at the table was all we needed was a spoon.

Ricotta doughnuts with caramel

Homemade Pizza and Cinnamon Buns
The last dinner of my visit, on a perfect spring night, was what all great meals should be: delicious food made better by amazing surroundings and even better friends.

I’m just going to let the pictures speak for themselves:

Playing with fire
This is just fun
Pizza fixings
Cheesy pizza
Melty cheese bubble
Oh my
Cinnamon rolls just taste better this way

And the next time I have extra pizza dough, I’m turning it into cinnamon buns.

Read on for all the cheese in Boston, art museums, and more…

Continue reading

End-of-Season Garden Update

I’m overdue for sharing an update on my garden. While most of the fall seeds I planted didn’t sprout, or sprouted a bit too late for me to do much with (or something sprouted, but I can’t tell if it’s a weed or something I did on purpose), there’s still been plenty to harvest. I even found some surprise fennel in a corner of my garden!

September garden
One lone poblano

My peppers got a second wind, as did all of my herbs (who wants a boatload of chives?). I’ve loved seeing how the 3 little radishes I didn’t pick in spring have become these giant plants with their pretty white flowers and spiky little seed pods. I’ve also picked a ton of green tomatoes that are destined for a pickle jar.

Radish seeds, before the birds got to them
Parsley needs a haircut
More chives

For my second year of gardening, I think it was pretty successful, despite some bizarre weather. Next year I’ll plan to do more soil amending/fertilizing before I plant anything and fertilize more throughout the season. I liked and ate most everything I planted (the exception being ground cherries, which I just can’t get into, black tomatoes, which had zero flavor, and beans, which the bunnies got to first). Lemon verbena was my favorite new thing this year.

Gardens close in a few weeks, and I still have a bit of harvesting and cleaning up to do. I’m planning to dump some lettuce seeds and see if I can get them to sprout like last year, which will be quite a nice surprise come next spring. Until then, rest up little garden! You earned it.

Easiest Tomato Sauce

I feel like stock trader yelling “Buy, buy, buy!!!”, but it’s the tail end of tomato season and I just figured out the best-tasting, easiest sauce I’ve ever made. And good thing, too, after I indulged my “but it’s on sale!” tendencies and bought 63 pounds of tomatoes (in my defense, I thought it was only 40, but nope, 63).

End of tomato season

Since I first tried canning tomatoes based on the National Center for Home Food Preservation process, I’ve been trying to find ways to streamline things. This year was no exception and resulted in the easiest, least messy, most hands-off method yet. So easy that I honestly don’t know why I’d ever do it any other way ever again. Here’s how it works:

Wash tomatoes, quarter, roast, peel, roast some more

Congratulations, you’re done. Once the tomatoes are cooked, you can put them through a food mill or a blender, leave them in chunks, freeze or can them or eat them with a spoon.

Start to finish

The basic difference between this and the NCHFP method, which most every canning or preservation book or website use: oven versus stovetop. And that makes all the difference. I’m talking about one pan, almost no mess, and minimal waste versus multiple simmering pots and pans, bowls of ice water, a mess across my counter, piles of tomato scraps, and hours of splattering and stirring.

Quartered and cored

Yes, I sound a little like that infomercial with the guy who can’t eat a bowl of popcorn and hold a soda at the same time, but I swear, this really is so much easier. This method eliminates the three things I hated most about the traditional method of processing tomatoes:

  • The boiling water/ice water peeling step. It inevitably makes a mess (they never peel easily for me and coring and cutting that little X in whole tomatoes is a pain), takes more time and attention, and means more stuff to clean. I hate cleaning.
  • Less watery sauce in less time. Getting 20 pounds of tomatoes to a good sauce consistency takes a solid half a day on my stove and makes a righteous mess. See above re. cleaning.
  • Constantly being at the stove. Granted, the oven method isn’t totally hands-off, but it requires much less babysitting than a simmering pot. Heck, when I made these last night I put them in the oven then read a book. OMG.

Easy peel

This also tasted better than any other tomato sauce I’ve made. Combining the large surface area of a roasting pan with dry heat of the oven (if you have a convection oven, so much the better) means the water in the tomatoes evaporates faster and more effectively than in a pot simmering on a stove. And that means much more concentrated tomato flavor in less time than it would take on a stove. Plus, especially if you use a large sheet pan like the dark one above, the sugars start to caramelize around the edges as the water cooks off, adding incredible depth, richness, and sweetness to the sauce.

The best, easiest tomato sauce

I’ve already eaten this on pasta, as a base for baked eggs, and finished off that little bowl standing at the counter with a spoon. I cant wait to use this in chili, to make tomato soup with grilled cheese, spaghetti and meatballs….Do you think it would be totally crazy if I bought more tomatoes this weekend?

Easy Tomato Sauce
Continue reading

Peach-Plum Pie + Extra Flaky Pie Crust

Out of all the season transitions, summer-to-fall seems to bring the most incongruous pairings at the market: peaches and pumpkins, corn and apples, blueberries and plums. But when I have a bunch of end-of-season peaches languishing in the fridge from the market two weeks ago and come home with a 30-pound bag of plums because, well, I’m me, I need to figure something out PDQ. It’s a good thing peaches and plums share common ground with all the good fall spices–cinnamon, cloves, brown sugar, brandy–in one of my favorite pies.

I love these colors
Peach-Plum pie

Any discussion of pie also has to include my new favorite pie crust. If there was a graph to measure the likelihood of pie based on “How badly I want pie” and “How much energy I want to spend” (…I had a whole witty thing here but it started to involve terms like “inverse proportionality” and “negative slope” and then I was looking for graph paper and made a literal pie chart in Excel and started debating if it was more appropriate as a bell curve and getting high school math class flashbacks. Let’s just pretend this paragraph was as infinitely clever as it was in my head. But I’m still including the pie chart.)

Pie chart

In any case, sometimes I’m just too lazy to get out eggs and vinegar and baking soda and ice and pastry cutter and a bowl, and then I don’t have pie (and for those who say “food processor!”, I hate cleaning the thing more than I like using it). And no pie on account of laziness is sad. This recipe is flour, butter, salt, water, a pastry board, and my hands and feels like markedly less effort. Less effort required=more pie.

Butter, lard, flour, water, salt
Butter, lard, flour
Flattened fats

The method is somewhere between traditional pie dough (cutting the butter into the flour until it’s in small bits that turn into small layers in the dough when it’s rolled out; also known as a short dough) and puff pastry dough (many, many thin layers of butter are created through many, many rounds of careful rolling, folding, and chilling; a.k.a. laminated dough).

Fraisage/short dough
Crumbles of butter, flour, and lard

In this process, big chunks of butter get mashed into the flour with your hand, creating large flakes (a variation on a technique called fraisage–my French lesson for the day) followed by a few rounds of rolling/folding to create more flaky layers. It’s even easy to work with as an all-butter crust, which has always given me trouble because the butter gets soft so quickly. I still like using a bit of lard in place of some of the butter for flavor, though.

Nice big butter piece

The beauty of this method is that it’s nearly impossible to overwork, rolls out beautifully, and creates the flakiest pie crust I’ve ever had, a delicious, edible lovechild of traditional pie crust and puff pastry. Which is to say, it’s really, really good.

As for the filling, it’s is based on one of my favorites from a few years ago. Peaches were such an obvious addition that I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me sooner. As much as they’re a sign of summer, peaches are also the perfect fruit to transition to fall as they work so well with all the flavors associated with the season: cinnamon, ginger, cloves, cardamom, brown sugar, brandy. This recipe has them all, plus streusel. Everything is better with streusel.

This smells so good
Sweet, spiced chutney to thicken the pie

For whatever reason, peaches and plums aren’t a fruit combination I see much, but it’s a shame as they work so well together. It’s definitely a pairing I’ll be using more often.

Pretty fall colors
This is going to be good
Peach-plum pie

(And as for that 30 pounds of plums? There’s been plum gin (of course), plum-vanilla vodka, Chinese plum sauce, pickled plums, plum jam, plum cake (more on that next week), and, of course, pie.)

Extra Flaky Pie Crust and Peach-Plum Pie Continue reading

Damson Plum Gin

It’s easy to like ripe, red strawberries, peaches that leave your hands and face sticky with juice, watermelon that tastes like a bite of pure summer. They don’t need anything but a sunny day for perfection. The fun ones for me, though, are the fruits that are unassuming, that don’t look or taste like much at first; the ones that need a little coaxing, maybe a bit of fuss, to really shine. But, oh, when they do, their flavor is enough to rival the most perfect of strawberries. And, in this case, they have the added bonus of a cocktail at the end.

Ready for sipping

Damson plums, like my other favorite stonefruit, sour cherries, fall into the “unassuming” category. Barely bigger than a large cherry with dusty deep blueish-purple skin, Damsons have hardly any flavor when eaten raw. Pop one in your mouth and all you’ll taste is sour, but give them some time and attention and you’ll be rewarded with the most plum-y tasting plum you’ve ever had, rich with flavor and deliciously, mouth-wateringly tart. It doesn’t hurt that their skins impart the most gorgeous color to anything you make with them.

Plums, sugar, gin

I mentioned this recipe off-hand last fall, but it was so good it really deserved its own post. It was a happy discovery to learn that Damson plums are related to sloes (as in sloe gin), which is as simple as combining gin, sugar, and fruit and waiting a few months. For the longest time, gin was not something I was a fan of. Someone once described it to me as “like drinking a pine tree;” considering one of the essential elements in gin is juniper berries, that’s not too far off. Happily, this woodsy flavor is actually a perfect complement to the plums.

Pretty purple infusion

What I’ve discovered about gin, too, is how widely the flavors can vary beyond the juniper base. Hendricks is known for flavors of rose and cucumber; Few, a local Chicago brand, has vanilla and citrus; I’m intrigued by the mix of herbs and spices in St. George’s “botanivore” gin. And honestly, this is good even if you only shell out for the low-shelf stuff.

Handy place to keep your recipe

Since the flavors of gin vary so widely, this is a fun recipe to make a few small batches and compare them come winter. Last year I particularly liked the rose flavor of Hendricks with the plum, and I have another two gins I’m giving a try this year. When it’s ready right around holiday time, this makes a gorgeous and delicious cocktail when you mix a bit of the gin with sparkling wine. Make more than you think you’ll need now, it’ll disappear faster than you realize.

Damson plum gin

Now if anyone has some ideas for what to do with a whole bunch of gin-soaked plums, I’m all ears!

Damson Plum Gin
Continue reading

Slow-smoked ribs

Wasn’t the 4th of July, like, a week ago? This summer seems to have blown by faster than any in recent memory, though my globe-trotting lately hasn’t helped. Regardless, with a few more days of near-90’s in the forecast, I will happily use the long weekend ahead as one last excuse for cramming every last bit of summer in, including one last batch of ribs on the grill.

Pretty pink smoke ring

As much as I’ve used my grill over the past two summers, these ribs marked the first time I’ve ever actually slow-smoked meat and I’ve been kicking myself for taking so long to do it. I have my favorite ribs I’ve made for years, since before I even had any outdoor space to grill them, but these…these are my new go-to when I want to show off.

What you'll need

Here’s the thing: Chicago has so many great restaurants, high-end to dive, and a lot that are known for good barbecue, but, to be honest, I’ve never had any barbecue that’s blown me away. Some has been good, but more often than not it’s been a game of too much chew or not enough, drenched in sauce or none at all, tastes like a burnt log or not even smoked.

These ribs are what I’ve been craving, the ones Goldilocks would have picked as “just right” if ribs had been the main course instead of a bowl of porridge. They have just enough pull without being fall-off-the-bone (a quality that’s completely over-rated when it comes to ribs, by the way), a good amount of flavor from the smoke and the rub but you can still actually tell that you’re eating pork, a little sweet and spice and the best little burnt bits from a final brush sauce and a quick blast of heat from a hot grill.

Rub bark, much better than bark on a tree

For better or worse, when the end of summer is in sight I inevitably feel like I’m running out of time–time for beach lounging, porch sitting, eating all the peaches and corn and berries and tomatoes, cooking (and grilling) all my summer favorites, time just to be in the sun. I know it would be better to focus on the things I managed to do in the past four months–planted and grew a garden; taught a class; traveled to Barcelona, Paris, London, Boston, Cleveland, New York; stocked my freezer, cupboard, and liquor cabinet.

Yes, the bottom rack is a little overdone

That said, I’m writing this sitting in the sun on my porch, a pot of tomato sauce with herbs from my garden simmering on my stove (at least some of which is destined for the pizza dough that’s headed for the grill shortly), a big bowl of fresh gazpacho ready for lunch, peaches and plums and fresh corn and tomatoes and watermelon all ready for eating, and a batch of those ribs on the very near horizon. When September starts like this, I really can’t complain.

Slow-Smoked Ribs
Continue reading

August Garden Update

An hour left to August, so how about a very last-minute update on how my garden did this month?

Things started small…

Starting small in August

Peas were pulled, tomatoes and tomatillos started hitting their stride.

August garden
2015-08-07 17.52.30
Tomato plot

I got my first hot pepper!

My first red pepper!

Those few little tomatoes turned into lots of goodies to harvest mid-month.

Tomato season
August harvest

I’ve spotted this guy hanging out on my tomatoes twice. I think he makes a good little mascot.

A garden friend

As for what’s coming up next, a few weeks ago I planted some end-of-season radishes, sorrel, broccoli raab, and lettuce, though only the radishes seem to have taken (I planted the rest of the seeds today, so we’ll see how it goes). I also let a few things go to seed (some on purpose, some out of laziness); radish seed pods are the prettiest things and I’m excited if I my laziness means I don’t have to buy more seeds next spring!


You guys. I’m struggling to find the words. Tuesday’s class was the most tangible and immediate validation of my purpose for this blog, for nearly everything I do involving food: to give people the confidence to try something new in the kitchen, to show that cooking doesn’t have to be this big, intimidating, scary thing.

Digging in

At the beginning of the class I asked who had eaten paella–nearly everyone raised their hand. Who’s made paella? One, maybe two hands went up. But by the end, every one of the 24 people in the class (plus the amazing volunteers who cooked the “teacher’s” paella) could say yes, they’ve made (amazingly delicious!) paella. And they could all do it again, too!

Watching each group proudly unveil the beautiful meals they created at the end of class, the impressed comments from their classmates–I wanted to give them all a hug and say “Look! You made that!” Everyone sitting together to share conversation and food (and wine, there were some amazing sangrias at the table) had me mentally shouting “YES. This is what’s it’s about.” (I mostly restrained myself on the shouting and hugging; I only had one sangria–a much-appreciated glass beautifully prepared and with a pretty little lemon twist by one of the groups.)

Saying hi to my first class
Lindsay arranging the final dishes

There were so many moments like that during the class, but this might have topped them all–one of the students came up to me at the end and told me she was really excited to try this at home. Then she said, “Honestly, I’ve had a paella pan sitting in the back of my closet for years and I’ve never used it. Now I have a reason!” Again I had to restrain myself from becoming a crazy hugging person, but I did tell her, “Yes!! You can totally do this!!”

Happy students
Ready to get started

And the comments on the feedback forms–I want to frame them, and not for my own ego. The best comments said that this intimidating dish was actually easy, that they tried or learned something new. Two of my favorite moments from the class were showing everyone a whole cuttlefish and walking around to let people smell smoked paprika, and it’s so rewarding to know that the class got something out of those moments too.

And I learned something in preparing for this class! I’ve never cooked cuttlefish before this week, but I love the stuff now (it’s like calamari, but thicker so less chance it will overcook). I added some to a salad last night and it was amazing.


For me, personally, there was a moment too. As anxious as I was in the days leading up to the class, as soon as I got to the kitchen and started setting up–it’s cliché, but I felt my nerves melt away. I know my way around a kitchen and a cutting board, I know how to cook.

Beyond the actual cooking portion of it, the years of practice I’ve had running web presentations at my day job were also surprisingly helpful. The speaking came easy because I knew the story I wanted to tell. I knew how to handle questions and figure out if it bore repeating to the whole group; I could troubleshoot my slightly burned garlic or pans that were heating unevenly without panicking. There are definitely things that will improve with practice (like actually remembering I have a pan on the stove before the garlic burns), but for a first time, it couldn’t have possibly gone any better.

Paul, one of the excellent volunteers I had helping me

I also cannot say enough good things about the volunteers who did so much of the prep for the class (roasting the red peppers to steaming the seafood to cutting the cuttlefish and all the meat), who pretty much cooked “my” paella when I was busy teaching, and washed all the dishes. They (and Lindsay and Becky from PGP, who also get credit for most of the pictures) made the class happen without me feeling frantic. If you have a kitchen skill you want to share, Peterson Garden Project is the place to do it.

Making sangria for the volunteers

I’m already brainstorming more class ideas (and I want to do this one again too!) and can’t wait to share more with all of you.


Paella Continue reading